


A Tarot Reading

by Tyranidlord



Series: The Red Skulls: Soul Plague [1]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Gen, Howling Griffons Chapter, Imperial Tarot, Ordos Xenos, Psychic Abilities, Tarot, inquisitor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 23:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13774632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranidlord/pseuds/Tyranidlord
Summary: Opening chapter of my novel: The Red Skulls: Soul Plague





	A Tarot Reading

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first pages of the very first writing I had ever undertaken. I had originally intended to seek it being published but I haven't actively worked on this since mid 2009. As it stands it is 270 pages long and almost 300,000 words in total. If I managed to knuckle down and work on this it would easily be a full sized novel. 
> 
> Maybe I'll return to this after finishing my Elder Scrolls Fanfic.
> 
> Maybe...

Ice rippled and flowed across every surface of the room like a living carpet covering everything that it touched with its frozen caress. Like a living spidersweb the sparkling crystals of the frozen water consumed the floors, coated the walls with a glittering layer of moisture and the ceiling soon dripped with a steadily growing layer of ice. The temperature of the room rapidly dropped below freezing, and soon almost all the moisture was sucked out of the air and frozen across every square inch of surface contained within the room.

Flickering lights danced across the crystallized surfaces, playing out half-glimpsed shapes and imaginary phantoms as the two tiny candles fought back both the gloom and the freezing air with their miniscule heat. They were the only items of any value in a room almost completely Spartan of decoration, their half melted forms slowly being buried under the growing ice and illuminating the hunched figure kneeling in the direct centre.

If the crouched figure was discomforted by the subzero temperatures of the room it made no sign, kneeling perfectly still and unnoticing the increasing layers of ices that flowed up the floor and covered the thick flowing cloak wrapped tightly around it’s body. For several long drawn out minutes, there was no movement bar the slight rise and fall of the figure’s chest as breathing was controlled to the point of almost perfect relaxation.

Inquisitor Ianthe Riechlend held his eyes closed, not feeling or even noticing how the temperature grew so cold that his breath fumed and billowed into swirling clouds. A thin layer of ice slowly formed into his dark eyebrows and half-grown goatee, crystallizing into jagged formations of glittering daggers as the power of his mind sucked the very warmth out of the room.

Kneeling down on the prayer mat, Reichlend slowly eased open the very fabric of the Warp and allowed its powerful energies to course through him. Gibbering forms of creatures and beings from the alternate dimension pressed into the weakened border between the Immaterium and the Physical realm, whispering false promises of power and blasphemous oaths that made the skin crawl. Muttering a prayer of protection between his ice-closed lips, he felt out with his mind, feeling the waves of energy flow through him and the burning stigmas of the anti-daemonic wards that began to light up and glow within the very walls of the room itself. Like a farmer gathering his crops by hand, he reached out, grasping each wave of invisible energy, feeling them squirm and writhe within the tight grip of his mind and focusing them into a single concentrated ball of energy that he fed through the stack of cards laid out in front of him.

The Emperor’s Tarot was used by the uncountable Psykers, Astropaths and psychically attuned humans throughout the galaxy-spanning Imperium of Man. The shifting images and the results of such readings were pored over by thousands, from the High Lords of Terra, Space Marine Chapter Masters, Planetary Governors and Inquisitors alike, all those who looked into the changing faces of the Tarot studied deeply to reveal the will of the God-Emperor.

To most humans, the Tarot were nothing more than a deck of thin, brittle bone-like cards with completely blank faces, but to a Psyker, they were so much more; they were the physical link to the mind of the God-Emperor, the most powerfully psychic individual in the Imperium. It was through these cards, his will could be drawn out in fleeting images and thoughts and it was even said that the very nature of the Galaxy could be discovered if one looked hard enough.

Reichlend grimaced, creating a tiny shower of ice as his expression darkened as his mind roamed over the previous two days. For two years, ever since he had received orders to follow the Tyranid hive fleet through the remote systems through the Eastern Fringe, they had followed the Xeno’s through the warp and realspace as it devoured dozens of worlds. The fleet numbered almost a thousand ships after it had been engaged by an Ork Waaagh! twelve months previously, but now there wasn’t a single one of the Tyranid Bioships left alive.

Something had attacked the Tyranid fleet with such force that every creature had been killed in the space of twelve hours, and now the empty area of space thousands of light years away from the nearest star was filled by hundreds of gutted bioships. From tiny flitting things the size of Starhawk bombers, all the way to the enormous _Leviathan_ Class bioships, the Tyranids had been totally wiped out without much trace of what had killed them. Entire ship filled with uncountable thousands of bioengineered organisms designed to consume entire worlds had been left dead and frozen as they floated through the vast emptiness of space.

It wasn’t that the fleet had been destroyed, and that the looming threat of the splinter fleet’s existence being permanently removed; it was from the fact that Reichlend knew for certain that the closest Imperial Battlefleet was many months travel away. His mission from the beginning was to merely track and monitor the fleet’s movements from a safe distance, giving Imperial worlds within nearby systems many months warning and saving uncountable billions of Imperial lives. The only reason why he was given this was that there was no Imperial force within half a segmentum that was powerful enough to successfully engage the Tyranids.

Which meant that it was highly likely that whatever wiped the fleet out wasn’t Imperial, and this far out in the Eastern Fringe, it meant that it highly likely to be another hostile race of Xenos. If it was, then it would possibly mean that they had merely traded one threat for a worse one.

The will of the collective Hivemind was powerful enough to block almost all psychic communication and hinder warp travel for light-years around. Just the mere presence of the Tyranid fleets was enough to block off entire worlds to the rest of the Imperium, and leave the besieged worlds completely on their own to face the unimaginable threat of the Tyranids. This ‘Shadow in the Warp’ had now cut them off from the rest of the Imperium, and left them floundering and blind for what their Navigator had estimated to be at least two weeks now that with the destruction of the fleet had begun to allow the Warp to return to it’s natural state.

This also meant that Reichlend’s psychic powers and that of his Astropath were almost rendered totally blind. Only the most powerful psykers could muster the strength of will to break through the Tyranids overwhelming psychic shadow and draw power from the warp and not be driven insane by the experience. Reichlend was powerful enough to break through it, but now with the fleet’s destruction, it was suddenly a thousand times easier to divine the Imperial Tarot.

With a mind honed smooth with experience of hundreds of previous divinations, he guided his psychic will through the psychoactive crystal-wafer cards, making the pack burn so intensely with energy that they melted holes in the ice. Soon the room lit up with a new burning light, as his well practiced hands drew several cards from the deck, placing them down with soft hisses of steam as they burned through the ice and rested on the prayer mat.

In his mind’s eye he could see the shifting forms of the cards blurring against the billowing waves of emotions and colors of the Warp, their ethereal forms twisting and weaving with energy while their physical forms burned white hot. Slowly, pushing through the echoing death-screams of the Tyranids, he reached out with his incorporeal form towards the flickering psychic beacon of the Astronomican.

While many within the Imperium used the Tarot to foretell the future and the will of the Emperor, Reichlend powers were unique in the fact that he didn’t just read the faces of the cards, but was able to delve deeper within the meaning and see visions of the past, present, and sometimes, even the future. He used these powers now, his mind burning white hot within the Immaterium and drawing its energy through himself and the cards until shifting images began to condense together into structured forms.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers over the brittle bone-like surface of the first card, sensing it’s meaning through his psychic touch as he slowly turned it over and placed the first of the cards face up. A new glow filled his mind, and slowly he lowered his head to gaze into the morphing face of the card, taking in the swirling image that was now revealed.

_The golden armored form of the Emperor swirled into sight, his greaves crushing the life out of aliens and heretics alike. Formed into an image of all that was good and perfect within humanity, the Emperor slowly raised his outstretched arm as surely as the movement of tectonic plates, pointing far off into the corrupting darkness of the Warp. As a single entity, the silently formed ranks of the golden armored warriors behind him broke out into a charge, and with a roar of righteous justice, they swarmed around the towering figure of the Emperor to lay waste to the foes of Mankind._

Riechlend felt a shiver course through him as the vision faded and the card’s face resolved into the stylized depiction of the Emperor standing triumphant. Normally it would just be the face of the card that Psykers would see, but his powers allowed him to see much more deeply into the cards meaning. While _The Emperor_ card showed that the will of the Emperor was evident in the region/events, the vision spoke for itself. Whatever had happened here and whoever had come to destroy the Tyranid Fleet was clearly serving the will of the Emperor. It was now more than likely that those responsible were Imperial Forces, but for such a powerful alien fleet to be wiped out in such a short space of time, it would take a fleet that for all intents and purposes remained totally hidden within half a segmentum.

Again he reached out and turned over the second card, feeling more knowledge flow through him as his mind churned into a second vision.

_Vow-papers and purity seals decreeing long-sworn oaths of vengeance and retribution fluttered in the unnatural breeze as the dozens of towering Astartes stood tall and proud over the bodies of their foes. Pride flowed off the silent Marines as they beheld their Chapter Master, his armor broken and bloody, but standing tall and unbowed over the ruins of his enemy. A face of millions of eyes stared off into the distance in the gaze of death, their blank expressions of doom and chaos silenced forever. The Daemon Prince had been thrown down and destroyed, the evil that plagued the history of the Chapter had been stamped out permanently, and together as brothers, the Howling Griffons celebrated the destruction of their Daemonic foe through howls of approval._

_Revenge_ was one of the rarest cards to be drawn during a reading, and Reichlend knew well that the vision of the Howling Griffons was not of who had destroyed the Tyranids, but rather showing their reasons why. The destruction of the Daemon Prince Periclitor by the Howling Griffons was well documented and known through the Segmentum, and the meaning behind the card and the vision was very clear. Whoever had destroyed the Tyranids had done so for more personal reasons than anything else. It was revenge that fueled their motivations, but there were few both within and without the Imperium and Mankind who didn’t have some reason to hate and hunt down the Tyranids.

For a second Reichlend reached out to turn the next card in the line, but stopped in mid thought. His experience had shown that many of his visions were very specific in their nature, and for the _Revenge_ Card to be drawn it had shown the motivations. But for his vision to be so specific to the fact of showing a Space Marine Chapter gaining their revenge on one of their hated foes may have indeed shown the nature of those responsible.

It wasn’t unknown for many Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes to work outside the direct control of the Imperium, and in a galaxy so vast and gulfs of space between systems, it would be easy for a Chapter to work alone and bring death to its foes. But the Tyranid Splinter fleet was incredibly vast, in fact it was estimated to be at least to be three times the size of _Behemoth_ , the Tyranid Fleet responsible for wiping out the whole 1st Company of the Ultramarines and besieging their home system of Ultramar. Even for a force as mighty as the Space Marines, it would take at least the full might of an entire Chapter and its fleet and supporting forces to totally wipe out a Tyranid fleet that size.

Now intrigued, he reached out once more, grasping the next card in the line and allowing it’s meaning to flow through him like the ones previously.

Like a jolt of electricity, the card’s psychic presence slammed right into his mind, smashing him backwards and jerking with the shock. The sheer force of malevolence and corruption associated with the card was enough for his enhanced psychic senses to suddenly diminish themselves in a defensive reaction.

There was no vision associated with the card, as there was none needed. From the burning light of the card’s psychic resonance, the image smouldered into the psychic ice with a powerful intensity.

A billowing form of unimaginable lights and shapes flowed impossibly from the card. It was _The Warp_ , normally benign and beneficial when preceded by any of the blessed arcana cards, but the shocking and corrupt force of this card clearly showed that it was reversed. The astonishment rippled through Riechlend’s soul, feeling a sudden and overwhelming sense of dread worm its way down through his spine and freeze his insides far more surely than the psychic frost that covered his kneeling body. _The Warp_ was known to be a card with two faces, one was beneficial, the other daemonic. The fact that the card had reversed itself to show its daemonic side despite the pair of blessed cards preceding it, this showed one thing, and one thing only.

While the first cards clearly showed that the destruction of the Tyranids was the work of Imperial forces loyal to the Emperor, the Warp reversed showed that the forces of Chaos were at work, perhaps even a taint or the possibility of a taint was present. This was troubling to say the least, as any form of corruption was a massive threat to the Imperium, but the merest possibility of a daemonic or heretical taint within a force powerful enough to destroy a Tyranid Splinter fleet was a massive threat and had to be investigated.

Now deeply worried, his concern bleeding into the Immaterium as a sickly purple as his emotions played out onto the alternate dimension of the Warp he reached out to turn the remaining cards. This was something a lot more than the destruction of an alien fleet; he could feel it deep inside his soul and the meaning behind the cards. Whatever had transpired here was only just the beginning.

_The Heretic_ revealed itself, but like _The Warp_ it too was reversed. Although the card itself was far from rare, the fact that it was reversed sent a surge of emotions and meanings through Riechlend’s mind. Indistinct feelings and emotions, half-grasped fragments of conversations that chorused into a mindless babble that echoed through the Warp. Normally _The Heretic_ foretold or warned of enemies against the Emperor and the Imperium, but with its reversal it held a different meaning. What was normally a definite focusing of guilt and failing, suddenly signified the misjudged, the uncertain, but could still show that there was still the trace of dissent. The card showed nothing else but that there was far more to the situation and those involved that meets the eye.

_The Inquisitor_ appeared in the next card, the psychoactive surface of the liquid-crystal swirling with energy to show the card in one of its three sub forms. An armor of pure silver clad over a figure of righteous anger and gripped a hammer of redemption for sinners and heretics alike, _The Witch Hunter_ flowed through Reichlend’s mind with a recognizable feeling of familiarity for those who walked a similar path as he. Determination was a smoldering fire coursing through his veins, the hatred for the heretic and the unclean a thick metallic bile in his mouth, and faith in the Emperor a thick plating of armor around his mind and soul. This card was judgment in a physical form, _The Witch Hunter_ representing the attentions of the Ordos Hereticus into the actions or individuals in question. Compared to the other cards, _The Witch Hunter_ didn’t surprise Reichlend in the slightest, especially after drawing _The Heretic_ right before it. Where there was heresy, the iron fist might of the Inquisition was sure to follow.

He left the other cards were they were, slowly closing off his psychic eye to the warp and bringing his soul back into the confines of his physical body. Several of the cards were left where they lay, he had seen enough for the moment to tell him all he needed to know, but for now at least he had a guiding point to aim for, and he still had other resources at his disposal to discover more.

With a sudden lurch he closed his mind off to the Warp and suddenly have a wave of feeling rush through his body. Cold permeated through his thick cloak, and ice crackled in waves down over his shoulders as an involuntary shiver coursed down his spine. Although he had only been in the room for less than an hour, the freezing temperatures from the use of his powers had dropped his body’s temperature to uncomfortable levels.

Slowly, opening his physical eyes for the first time since beginning the séance, he gazed over the form of the rapidly cooling Tarot cards as their previously white-hot forms continued to melt the ice that threatened to consume them. Now removed from his psychic presence, and the link to the Warp had been closed, the ice began to rapidly melt once more, the ventilation systems within the rooms walls beginning to pump in fresh air and to defrost the room. Although bathed in complete silence, the room was suddenly hosting the whisper of sound as several kilograms of ice rapidly melted and dripped down the walls and ceiling.

Without a word Reichlend leaned forward, ignoring the half melted slush flowing off the sleeves of his bodyglove and robes and quickly gathering the cards and placed them away within their hand carved box and sealing them with his gene-print. They were priceless beyond measure, his only real link to the Emperor and the Imperium within the darkness of the Tyranid Hivemind, and sometimes he believed that these few cards were the only thing had stopped him from going insane over the past two years of following the Splinter fleet’s path through the Eastern Fringe. It had been a long, hard, danger fraught and lonely two years, and Reichlend couldn’t remember a time where he had felt more alone in the Universe. The Cards had provided him with a link back to his Faith and served as a constant reminder to his duty to the Emperor and the Inquisition. The High Lords of the Ordos Xenos had specifically chosen him for his mission, and believed that he was the only one who could successfully complete it; the fact that the mission had ceased almost a decade before they believed it would was insignificant.

Sighing softly to himself, he placed the Tarot Box back into the void safe locked into the centre of the floor, whispering a soft prayer to the Emperor and locking it securely with his gene-print. He had been given a direction to take with his reading of the Tarot, and perhaps some insight into who had destroyed the Tyranids and why. It still didn’t remove the sense of unease he felt however from the hints of Heresy and the foreboding drawing of _The Warp reversed_. It meant nothing well for himself and his retinue, and it was highly likely that they were possibly the only ones who were in any position to discover the truth before it was too late.

**Author's Note:**

> I am fully aware of how much the lore of 40K has changed over the past decade, for the better and worse depending on your opinion. Most of this story no longer matches the current fluff and is one of the reasons why I'm no longer looking at going down the path submitting it in the hope of publishing.


End file.
